In the clearing stands a boxer
by pinkmink
Summary: Slightly mature Destiel - Dean getting out some aggression. Short and sweet!


"In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade.

And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down

or cut him 'till he cried out, in his anger and his shame,

I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains."

-The Boxer, Simon and Garfunkel

 _It was the most insignificant gesture. Innocent, really. A brush of lips against hot skin that could be interpreted so many different ways. Was it an accident? It depends on the context, really. Maybe we need a little backstory._

Just another day at the bunker - turning up dead ends researching "the darkness". Pouring through old log books never was Deans strong suit anyway - the way it made his legs itch for some action was distracting.

"Ugh!" He pushed himself away from the table in frustration, nearly knocking over his beer in the process. Sam glanced up from the other end, raising an eye brow.

"Something wrong?" he asked sarcastically. He knew - but Dean was always too easy to tease.

"I'm done with this today." Dean grabbed his beer and polished the rest off in a single gulp. "We've been at this for days with no leads. I'm going crazy in here."

"Why don't you take yourself for a walk, Dean." Sam closed his book and reached for the next. The man was a machine when it came to research - he had more stamina than the computer. At least that damn thing ran out of batteries.

"Oh, like I'm some dog, then?" He feigned insult. But Sam was right - he needed to get outside. And do - something.

He made his way out of the bunker. The Kansas summer was coming to a close - it was warm in the afternoon sun but not sweltering. He peeled off his flannel (the bunker was always cold) and grabbed his boxing gloves hanging on a hook next to the door. Earlier in the year they had hung a punching bag on an old tree outside. It was weighed down pretty good which was nice, because he really needed to hit something, and hard.

He started off softly enough - a few jabs to warm up his muscles. His brain started to remember the rush of the kill from the mark - just muscle memory but it disgusted him. He felt the adrenaline swell in his skin as he took a deep breath and hit harder. Once. Twice. A cut across, a swipe from the left. He ducked and dodged, changing his footing, increasing his pace. With each hit his anger swelled from a deep place. All the crap they had been put through by angels and demons. Jab to the left, lean back and kick. The bag went flying then returned to its place. Loosing Charlie, Bobby, Jo, Ellen - each face as it passed his thoughts was another hit. His time in hell, his time in pergatory. The punches were a blur, one right after the next. Sweat poured down his Led Zeplin shirt - the fabric clung to the coiled muscles in his back. He became lost in his dark thoughts. _Its just a bunch of shit! All of it! This isn't what I wanted! This isn't what Sam deserves! This was Dad's mess! This-_

A warm hand firmly grasped his shoulder. Dean jumped out of his skin and grabbed the wrist, flipping the intruder over his shoulder and slamming him to the ground. He stood their breathless, in a defensive stance, blind with adrenaline until his eyes focused clearly on a tan overcoat.

"Well I probably should have guessed that would happen." Castiel groaned as he pushed himself up off the ground, and into a sitting position. He looked dazed but otherwise no worse for the wear.

Dean shook his head a bit to clear it. "Aw dude Cas, I'm sorry!" He reached down and Castiel reached back up. He pulled him to his feet, ending up a bit too close. Cas was definitely in his bubble. They shared that stare they sometimes do, the one Dean is just kind of used to - brief moment of pure "what if". What if Dean was a bit more interested in men than he thought? What if Castiel was too? What if they jumped each others bones right there? What if he was just reading way too damn much into these stares and it was just an other worldly being trying to understand the human specimen? Should he look away? Why doesn't he want to...

"It's my fault." Castiel broke eye contact, and brushed himself off. "I was just pulling up and I saw you going at that punching bag like it wronged you. Is something the matter?"

"Me? No - just itching to get back in the field is all. Needed to blow off some steam." He sniffed. "Did you bring-"

"I brought you a burger from the greasy diner you like." Castiel walked back towards his car and opened the passenger side door. "And some beer - I thought you guys would need a break from the research."

"Oh man Cas, you really are my guardian angel!" Dean grinned and grabbed the bag and the six pack.

Castiel's face broke into a huge smile. He couldn't hide that he was pleased that he made Dean happy. "You mind if I take a turn at the punching bag?"

"Be my guest." Dean muffled through a mouthful of burger. He took a seat on a large rock a small distance from the bag and continued to stuff his face. There was something so magical about beer and a burger. The slightly charred taste of meat, being washed down with bitter fizz. The kick of adrenaline was wearing off nicely and oddly enough, he felt better about all the shit in their lives, even for a few minutes. He watched as Castiel took off his overcoat, then suit jacket. He folded both and set them on the hood of his car. A part of Dean's chest seized up when he saw him pull at his button up shirt, tucked in at the waist. Well, that's different.

Castiel unbuttoned his shirt casually and deftly. Which was strange because when it came to human actions, Cas was usually a klutz. He unbuttoned his cuffs. The overly chewed burger bite in Dean's mouth began to dry up. He coughed as Cas pulled off his over shirt and folded that, leaving him in just a white tank. Dean took a swig of beer to stop from gawking - he never saw the angel at this state of undress. He was always overshadowed by the ill fitting suit and overcoat - but underneath he had a slender tight frame.

"I've only done this once before, with poor results." Castiel pulled on Dean's gloves, and stood in front of the bag.

"Just start punching man - it's kinda hard to screw up." Dean was less and less interested in the greasy burger but still inhaled it if only to keep from looking too creepy. Castiel faced the bag and let one rip, hard right in the middle. He smiled. Then another. And another. Hit after hit steady, like a machine - he'd pull one fist back tight and turn the other into a straight punch.

But his feet were all wrong, he wasn't in a defensive stance. And though Dean could see he was enjoying it, it wasn't *exactly* right. But he didn't move - he was completely mesmerized by the sight, especially his shoulders. The way the muscles moved underneath his fair skin - it was like a dance. Each punch they zipped back and forth. He could see sweat forming at his temples... now he really was gawking.

"Am I doing this right?" Castiel asked, pausing, wiping his forehead with his arm and glancing at Dean. Their eyes met. Deans' looked like a deer in headlights - he'd been caught.

"Uh, well, you're on the right track, but let me help you." he bounced to his feet (forgetting the rest of the burger) and stood behind Castiel. Throwing a bit of caution to the wind, he butted up right behind him, placing his hands on his hips.

"First of all, you want to turn your stance. It's going to give you more power." He pushed Cas's left hip forward and pulled his right hip towards him. He stayed close, and mirrored the stance. "Like this - see?"

"Oh - yes." Cas sputtered and kept his fists at face level.

"You're also going to want to throw some different punches in there." Dean leaned forward and put his hand on Castiels right arm. "Try giving a right hook and then using your left to undercut."

"I can do that." Cas said hotly, almost under his breath. Dean remained behind him frozen, unsure what to do. Part of him wanted to spin Cas around and frisk him. Their sweaty bodies nearly touching - it was unbelievably hot. The other part wanted to run into the Kansas forest that surrounded them. He opted for option three - hit something.

"Here, let me show you." Dean stood back and Cas took off his gloves, handing them to him. Cas took a step back and crossed his arms. Dean got into defensive position, and began to punch.

"See the goal," he started, breathlessly explaining. "The goal is to change it up - get your muscle memory used to trying new things, throwing some curve balls." Jab, right hook, lean back, kick. "The more you change things up in a fight the better off you are - gotta keep em guessing!" Kick, punch, jab. "I guess that's kinda like life, isn't it?" Jab, hook. "It keeps you guessing." Punch harder, duck, change footing. "Just when you think you've got it figured out, it throws you another curve ball." More anger, right hook, kick. "Because it isn't enough that you've saved the world over and over and over again ohhhh no." Punch, punch, jab, punch. "You just gotta keep on your toes because you never know when someone you care about is going to end up dead!"

"Dean. Dean!" Castiel leaned forward, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder. He stopped mid punch, sweat pouring down his forehead, eyes clouded with angry tears. Without a word, Castiel pulled him into a sweaty hug. Dean paused and then his entire body just succumbed to the feeling and he buried his face into Castiels shoulder, letting the tears come silently. He didn't cry hard but he did cry - all of the shit they faced in the last year - all of the guilt for everything he put his brother and Cas through - it just leaked out of him.

"It's alright" Cas tried to comfort, though he's always been terrible with words. His hands moved gently against his back.

"No, it's not. But thanks for saying"

They stayed there for a good few minutes, clinging to each other's overheated body. As Dean dried up he took a deep breath of Cas - his scent was like new fresh rain though musty from all the exercise. God he smelled good. He turned his head and let his mouth brush Castiel's neck as he pulled away. Was it a kiss? Did he mean for it to be? It just felt nice...

He didn't meet Castiel's eyes as he pulled back, looking at the ground and pulling his gloves off. He kept starting at the ground as suddenly Cas had grabbed his hand. He looked up in confusion, and Cas was an inch from his face.

"Dean-" He started and then stopped. "Fuck it" he grumbled, and he grabbed his hand tighter as he closed the gap and pressed his lips against Dean's. Dean's eyes shut and he surprised himself as he grabbed Castiel tightly around the waist, pushing him back and pinning him against the old tree. He pulled and sucked at his lower lip - it was so full. They tugged at each other, Cas slipping his hands underneath Dean's sweaty shirt, clawing at his bare skin. It was so sudden, so hot. Their tounges danced and Dean could feel a building heat in his groin. He briefly thought that he might be embarrassed having a boner in front of the angel when suddenly Cas reached down and grabbed Dean's ass, pressing their pelvises firmly against each other. Then it was fine that Dean had a raging boner - Cas had one too.

Dean had one hand tangled in Castiel's dark hair and the other pressed against his chest when Cas pulled his head back.

"Maybe - we should talk about this?" Castiel's voice was low, even for him. His blue eyes were steady in Dean's green gaze. His face was flush and his lips were swollen a deep red. He was breathless and raw and it was the most beautiful sight Dean had ever seen in his life. And of course the damn angel was going to stop to make sure Dean was ok, even in the middle of all this, because he always did. More than anyone, even Sam, Cas took care of Dean. "Are you alright with what we're -"

"Seriously Cas, shut up."

Dean's mouth was at his neck, sucking at his jugular. The stubble roughed up his lips in the best way. Castiel made a guttural noise and swiftly maneuvered one leg in between Deans, still grasping at his ass. Dammit - he knew exactly what he was doing. Cheeky bastard. "I think it's safe to say I'm, ugn," Castiel's leg bushed against Dean's raging hard-on and he groaned into Castiel's neck. "I'm good. I'm so good."

Their lips met again and this time it was sloppy, wet. Tongues traced the inside of each other's mouths and Dean found himself smiling against his better judgement. This was fun - way more fun than he's had in a long time. And Cas was good at this.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" Dean pulled back but kept his arms around his neck.

Castiel smirked. SMIRKED. He could count on one hand the number of time's he'd seen that expression on his face. And it was sexy as hell.

"I'd ask you the same, but it's obvious you've had more practice than me..."

"Hey!" Dean protested, but laughed. A deep laugh, from his gut. And Cas laughed too. They held each other and just laughed. Something about this felt right, though he would be the first to admit that hardly made any damn sense. He looked at the angel now with a different expression - a bit of peace. Cas gazed at him like he was the most beautiful thing in all of creation.

"So now what?" Castiel seemed to hesitate to ask - but didn't move an inch away from Dean.

"I don't have any idea. You know I screw everything up that is remotely good in my life." Dean said honestly, but his chest felt light. All of the crap, the struggles of the last year, their mission, the darkness - it melted away when Cas looked at him like that.

"That's not true Dean, but I understand why you said it." Castiel moved his hands to the small of his back. "I know you do not enjoy talking about feelings so I won't press you. Just tell me, do you-" he paused, searching for the words, "...want me?"

That question was like a rocket to Dean's groin.

"Yea" his voice cracked a little, and he grunted as he cleared his throat.

"Did this-" Cas moved his hand, motioning between them. "Did this change our friendship?"

"No! No," Deans arms left his neck and balled up against his sides. "God, I hope not Cas. I mean I want you - in a way I've never wanted another man. I can't figure it out, because I like women, but something about you - " he paused, and regained his thoughts. "I don't ever want that to change - Cas, you've always been my best friend. I don't want to lose that."

Castiel pulled Dean tighter into his arms. "You won't, Dean."

They held each other for a good long time - just breathing in each others scent, still musty from the exercise earlier. The sun was setting - the forest around them was starting to get turn that orange shade that only happens at dusk. It was the first time in a long time either of them felt truly relaxed, and they relished in it. What ever was going to happen next would come - but for now, they have each other.


End file.
